


Make A Mess (inside my heart)

by okay_pretender



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (that includes the author), Consensual Underage Sex, F/F, Lesbians, Pre-Canon, Rule 63, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, f/f - Freeform, fem!Rovinsky, girls making bad decisions, they're like 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okay_pretender/pseuds/okay_pretender
Summary: Rovinsky f/f smut. Does what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Make A Mess (inside my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Make a Mess by blackbear because I felt like it. This takes place pre-canon, therefore they're both about 17. Name changes: Ronan is Rowan, K is Sofia Kavinsky (mostly just K). Gansey and Adam are female; Declan, Matthew, and Noah are not, this is not really important to the plot. Also, Rowan and K are not exactly practicing safe sex here. Don't be like Rowan and K. Protect yourselves.

Rowan Lynch had not sought out Sofia Kavinsky in three weeks. Gansey was overly excited about something in her quest for Glendower, and Declan was on some college trip that hadn’t brought him back to Henrietta for church recently, and Noah was back from his grandmother’s house or whatever excuse he’d given for being gone for a month. Rowan could almost ignore the itch in her soul if she just focused on things other than the permanent image of her father’s mangled body seared behind her eyelids. She didn’t feel scraped raw, didn’t feel like downed power lines in an electrical storm, didn’t feel like she was chasing the double-edged sword of K and the high she emitted like photons from a nuclear reactor. She didn’t feel calm, but it was closer to calm than she’d felt since Niall had died.

She hadn’t gone looking for trouble in three weeks.

She’d almost convinced herself she’d never go looking again.

And then Declan had called. He couldn’t have just checked up on her? Just asked to see if she was still alive and then hung up? He couldn’t have kept that tone out of his voice, the one that said you are a failure and you are a disappointment and I can’t trust you with your own life because clearly you can’t handle the responsibility? All it did was make her want to prove him right. She’d hung up on him when she couldn’t stand it anymore and stormed out of her room, car keys in hand. Gansey had looked up from her ley line map briefly, but Rowan dismisses her glance with a mutter of, “Grocery run.” She would pick up some food while she was out. All she was doing was going for a drive. She hadn’t gone for a real drive in a while, surely the feel of her BMW burning rubber out of Henrietta and into the hills would be enough to sate her rankled nervous system. She could drive for as long as she wanted and pick up groceries when she turned around. That would be all. No need to worry Gansey, no need to prove Declan right. It’s a Saturday evening, Kavinsky would probably be running a deal or hosting a party or something. Out of sight, out of mind.  
She gets two miles out of town before she runs into the whole pack at once.

They weren’t driving, just parked on the shoulder, leaning against some unsuspecting farmer’s fence and giving his cows a secondhand high from their smoke. Five pairs of eyes lock on her as she speeds past. Her skin crawls.

She could have expected to hear the engine of the Mitsu start up seconds later. She could have expected it would rip open the scabbed-over part of her that split open now, needing Kavinsky in the worst possible way. The part that craved K’s filthy mouth and broken speed limits and broken promises and broken bones. She feels like she’s breaking open, too, as she leads K further out of town. The Mitsu races along behind her, a call she’d always answer. It seems like K would let her lead, but the moon-white Evo suddenly peels off down a side street, slowing down only a little, so confident Rowan would turn around and follow. Rowan skids to a stop and executes a three-point turn to shame Declan, Gansey, and anyone else who’d ever criticized her driving. She catches up with K at the top of a cul-de-sac in the richest neighborhood Henrietta had. This isn’t their modus operandi. What is K doing?

Both girls park. K slides out of her car with all the grace of a panther on the hunt, Rowan disembarks from her own with all that of a drunken bear. 

“Don’t play games with me, you piece of shit. What’s going on?” Rowan demanded. Gansey would have played the delicate Victorian lady, been appalled at her manners. Gansey wasn’t here.  
K strolls up to Rowan, visibly considering whether she’d fight if K touched her. “Good evening to you, too. You know, if you were more polite, I bet Gansey’d fuck you herself and you wouldn’t have to come running to me.”  
“Leave her out of this.” K raises an eyebrow as though to say, where is the lie? She reaches up to slide a hand over Rowan’s buzz cut, digging her nails in at the back of Rowan’s head. Reminding her who’s in charge. Rowan’s eyes drift closed involuntarily.

K turns on her heel and gets halfway to the door before Rowan realizes what’s happening. 

“Coming?” K tosses over her shoulder.

Rowan is thrown off balance. They don’t _do_ this. Rowan would never bring K into Monmouth. Their dynamic is meant for backseats in the dark, too much alcohol, too many miles over the speed limit, K’s poison in Rowan’s veins. But if she doesn’t go after K, if she goes back to Monmouth and Gansey and Declan’s calls on the phone she hates, she’ll lose it entirely. It comes down to that. When she’s like this, she needs to be away from Gansey. No matter how much Gansey disapproves and worries about her, she sticks by Rowan. Rowan keeps this shitty side of herself away from Gansey’s pristine ideals and their friendship is safe, intact, unbreakable. Rowan could break anything when she’s burning up. She’d rather K, despicable K, be there for it than the girl she loves more than she’ll ever admit.

She walks in when K holds the door open.

By the time they reach K’s bedroom, shedding various articles of clothing and all Rowan’s qualms about coming in, both girls are gasping for breath. Rowan’s got bruises on her throat she won’t be able to hide in church tomorrow, and they’re not just hickeys. Kavinsky’s hair is a wreck. Rowan tries to crowd her up against the door, pin her down and maybe once she’s at Rowan’s mercy the beast in her chest will quiet down and she’ll be able to leave without losing all her pride, maybe she can leave Kavinsky hanging for once. K snickers and slips out of her grasp, dancing away. Rowan leans back against the door, trying to catch her breath.

She wonders why she couldn’t back away, just run out… She knows why, even if she refuses to admit it. She wants this. She’d strode out of Monmouth tonight with her car keys clutched in her hand and snapped wires sparking in her eyes because she was on a mission to find this. K seems to eerily tap into her thinking, smirking, “You need this. You need me.” 

“I don’t need anyone,” she snarled. “Really. Walk away, then. Prove it to me, baby,” tone silky and treacherous and Rowan was stuck now, pinned between the magnet that was K and the void of leaving.

Rowan couldn’t. She strides up to K, backing her up against the wall, trying to salvage some of her dignity, but K’s grin makes it clear this was what she’d wanted, Rowan hot and bothered and unable to walk out on her. She crosses her arms over her head and leans back against the wall to roll her hips toward Rowan, and the move should look ridiculous but it’s hatefully attractive on K as she whispers, “Ro…” letting her voice trail off in a soft moan that vibrated right through Rowan’s body. K smirked. She was in control here and they both knew it. “Kiss me, baby,” and Rowan did, like she was in a trance, like all K had to do was glance up under those heavy lids and Rowan would give her the world, dream her the world. The world, however, was quickly narrowing to K’s tongue in her mouth and soft lips closing around Rowan’s piercing to _suck_ on it. K swallows Rowan’s moans down her throat, grip tight enough to leave more marks around Rowan’s arms. She pulls back, taunting, and lets out a laugh when Rowan chases her lips.  
“That’s it, baby, make some noise for me,” Rowan needs to calm down she needs to drive home to Monmouth she needs to put out this inferno threatening to consume her and Kavinsky’s the most powerful fire hose she can find.

When K ghosts her lips over Rowan’s collarbone where she knows it makes Rowan fall apart, tongue darting out and teeth snapping closer with every breath, dancing against her skin, and breathes, “Say please,” Rowan gasps out her answer, hating herself and K and the way K knows how she wants to be treated, knows Rowan needs her to be merciless and provides with glee.  
K shoves her knee between Rowan’s thighs, pressing her open, hands making soothing tracks up and down her sides. “Wanna be civilized and do it in a bed for once?”

K rolls them into the pillows and sheets, which are already in disarray, just like the rest of K’s existence, lazy and uncaring and chaotic. Rowan can smell her on them, more so than in the backseat of the Mitsu, and it’s too intimate for this. Rowan doesn’t want to imagine what K looks like when she first wakes up, doesn’t want to know the scent of her sheets or the view from her window. She doesn’t want this to be what it is: more and less than what Rowan expected, something that is starting to feel like an indulgence rather than the self-punishment she’d intended it to be.

Rowan’s shirt has been lost to the halls of K’s house, but she’s still mostly dressed. K mouths at the peaks of Rowan’s breasts through her bra, reaching around to eliminate that barrier. Rowan lifts her hips, muscles straining tight as she lifts K too, relishing the press of their bodies together. K looks delighted at the enthusiasm and show of strength. She smooths her palms from Rowan’s shoulders past her chest and down her torso to her hips. Rowan squirms, too far gone to feel embarrassed about it. K slides her jeans down too easily. It’s a well-practiced move.

“Not that I don’t love car sex,” K pants, leaving wet kisses all over Rowan’s skin from neck to hipbone, “but I’ve got to say I’m loving the change of pace even more,” she spreads Rowan’s legs out wider to accommodate her body between them, “I’m gonna take it slow with you tonight,” she promises. 

She wraps a hand behind Rowan’s hip to squeeze her ass as she teases just the lightest brushes of her mouth over the apex of Rowan’s thighs. 

Kavinsky keeps her promise. She moves excruciatingly slowly, tracing her tongue over Rowan, parting her lips gently, sliding a finger through and following it with her tongue again. Rowan is gasping and shaking, unable to stop the twitch of her hips into the tantalizing touch. Her eyes are screwed shut until K lifts her head and orders, “Look at me.” It’s a herculean effort to open her eyes, but K purrs, “Good girl,” right up against Rowan’s center and, oh that’s worth it. Rowan bites off a moan. K hums in encouragement, but keeps the agonizingly slow pace, heat building under Rowan’s skin until she feels molten. K replaces her tongue with her fingers, surges up to kiss Rowan deeply so she tastes herself, and when K whispers against her lips, “Come for me,” Rowan does, harder than she ever has before.

K’s hands rub over Rowan’s shaved scalp and Rowan thinks she might be laughing. For as long as it takes her to say, “Get up here,” and stare K down, Rowan feels like laughing along with her. K’s expression is puzzled until Rowan growls, “I’m not moving, so come here, asshole,” and then her eyes light up wickedly and she wastes no time reaching for the headboard and sinking down over Rowan’s mouth. Rowan tries to put everything she can never say aloud into the movement of her mouth on Kavinsky. _I wish you were Gansey, I wish you were Parrish, I wish I didn’t need this, I wish it could be you and me, I want you I need you_ I love you

She turns her face away as Kavinsky finishes, triumphant, above her.

Afterward, K slides down beside Rowan, smiling like the sun. Rowan wishes she wouldn’t. She wants to collect herself and head out without talking about it, but K throws an arm over her and drags Rowan back against her chest. Rowan splutters, unsure what to do now and hating her own uncertainty. “Settle down and go the fuck to sleep.” Kavinsky’s tone brooks no argument, and if Rowan’s honest with herself, she doesn’t really want to argue. She’s spent too many long nights wide awake, wondering what would happen if she slid into Gansey’s bed instead, too cowardly to do it. This is a pale mockery of Rowan’s agonizing fantasies, but it’ll do for tonight. K drifts asleep holding Rowan. It’s the best and worst thing they’ve done together. She shifts a little to see if K will notice. The arms around her tighten slightly but K doesn’t stir. Rowan doesn’t want to be awake enough to make the responsible decision and let K wake up alone, so she curls into her embrace, closes her eyes, and makes a mental note to hate herself in the morning.  
~  
The curtains rip open and light pours into the room. Rowan squints, but before she can make out the shape standing in front of the window, she hears an incredulous whistle from the doorway. _K’s whole goddamn pack_. Rowan is so fucked.

“Lynch, I knew you hated yourself, but enough to do the whole walk of shame?” the shape nearest the bed taunts. Swan.

Rowan’s glare, were she fully clothed and seated in her BMW rather than being spooned by Sofia Kavinsky, surrounded by the four girls who are most likely to use this situation as blackmail, would have been enough to ice over at least the top few circles of hell. As it was, however, Swan just smirked and waggled her eyebrows, undaunted. The girls seem disinclined to leave, so Rowan’s options are limited to putting herself on full display while she collects her scattered clothes, some of which are undoubtedly not in the bedroom, or laying back down to stay in K’s hold and scowling at everyone. K sits up too, letting the sheet fall to her waist because _of course she does_ , and murmurs gleefully in Rowan’s ear, “You look like a kitten with indigestion. God that’s cute.” Rowan wants to put her fist through a wall. Or K’s face. She’d settle for any of the leering figures in the room, actually. K takes pity on her, or perhaps realizes that she’s seriously considering violence, and shoos her girls out of the room with a dismissive wave of her hand and a wink that says she’s got a story for them later. Reaching over the side of the bed, Rowan grabs a top from the floor, only realizing when she yanks it over her head that it isn’t hers. K looks like she doesn’t know whether to prefer Rowan naked or dressed in K’s clothes. 

“Wearing my clothes, staying the night, waking up in my bed… a girl can get ideas, Lynch.” 

“Don’t. This was a one-time mistake.” 

“You know, I’d be hurt by that, but it’s what you said the first time you kissed me… and the time you let me take you apart in my car… and the time you let me do it in _your_ car… almost like you can’t get enough, isn’t it?” Rowan isn’t sure whether to be more furious with K for saying it aloud, or herself for making it true. K rolls her eyes. “Keep the shirt. It looks good on you.” And undoubtedly someone has already absconded with Rowan’s, as she can’t find it anywhere on the floor. Daylight burns through the windows, and the scene is all wrong. Rowan should be waking up alone in Monmouth, Gansey the only person to see her before she left for church with her sisters. Gansey, forgiving, all-knowing Gansey, who disapproves in silence whenever Rowan gets back late but who can’t ignore this now and what is she going to say, what can she say to justify herself? She can’t even justify this in her own mind. 

Skov snickers when she walks by the kitchen, picking up her shoes and an errant earring as she goes. Rowan doesn’t even have the energy to glare back. She doesn’t want to face her siblings and she doesn’t want to face Gansey and she doesn’t want to face herself. The drive back to all of those things has never felt shorter. Rowan trudges to her room, tries to ignore the clear marks of K’s dubious affection on her body as she changes clothes, and refuses to meet Gansey’s eyes when she passes her in the kitchen/bathroom/laundry room to make some toast. Gansey has that concerned look in her eyes, Rowan can feel it without even glancing up. Church is going to be excruciating.

She deserves every second of it.


End file.
